


The then isn’t the now

by Goth_girl



Category: Lost, lost (2004)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, can be read as slash or not, sawyer has issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 11:33:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30088449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goth_girl/pseuds/Goth_girl
Summary: His eyes had glazed over now, gaze somewhere far, far away. Eventually, he broke the silence in a distant voice. "You ever been beaten?"Jack suppressed the shock from his face. He wanted to ask him to specify, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. He knew what he meant. "No," he said quietly, "my dad was a drunk but he was a good man. Or, he tried to be, at least." Sawyer still wasn’t looking at him, his gaze lost amongst the flames infront of him. Jack swallowed, "have you?"OrSawyers hurt, drunk and in a bad mood. Jack pushes and ends up getting more than he expected.
Relationships: James "Sawyer" Ford/Jack Shephard
Kudos: 7





	The then isn’t the now

"What happened?" 

Sawyer looked to him sharply, clearly taken back. That alone made Jack raise an eyebrow. Sawyer was near impossible to sneak up on, let alone surprise. There was a red smear of blood on his upper lip, smudged in a way that told Jack that it had attempted to be rubbed away. His lip was cut but Jack’s main source of worry was a deep gash running along Sawyer’s right thigh. He couldn’t see the extent of it, most of such hidden by the crimson stain of his jean material. 

Sawyer scowled at him, face one of practised irritance; though Jack could see the tightness in the corners of his lips. "Well?" Jack pressed. 

"Dodgy ground," Sawyer sniffed, taking a swig from a small bottle. Jack quickly realised that it was alcohol - some kind of spirit. He couldn’t find the enthusiasm to be surprised. "Ankle caught an’," he looked away, "tripped." 

Jack rose a brow. 

"It was dark." Sawyer muttered, a slight slur taking his words as he took another swig, this one longer, deeper. Jack could practically feel the burn of his throat himself. Jack took a step closer. He could now see deep bags beneath his eyes, black and bruising - the type that came about from a broken nose. Jack almost sighed out loud. He took a seat beside Sawyer, keeping both a decent distance and air of nochalance in order to not ignite Sawyer’s trademark fight or flight attitude. To the right of Sawyer was a handful of empty spirit bottles. That explained the slur then. "You want somethin’?" Sawyer snapped, not bothering to look at him. 

"Show me your leg," Jack murmured, pulling his own bag off of his shoulder. 

"Excuse me?" 

"That cut looks deep. Show me." 

"No." 

Jack slammed the bag on to the ground, his expression a hybrid of sternness and tiredness. "I am not in the mood for this today, Sawyer." He sighed. 

"I’m not taking my pants off." Sawyer grunted. 

That took Jack off guard. He exhaled slowly, "fine. Rip the hole so I can get a decent look at it." Sawyer did so, roughly but surely, he opened it so his near entire thigh was bare. Jack had inspected it quickly, surprised to find it didn’t need stitches - just about. Any deeper and he’d be looking at a couple dozen. "You got lucky," Jack informed, wetting a cloth with antiseptic. Sawyer said nothing, jaw twitching at the sting the cleaning brought. "You break your nose?" Jack asked, cleaning the wound. Sawyer’s eyes flickered to him for a second. That was a yes, then. "Want me to take a look at it?" 

"It’s fine." 

"It looks pretty bad - "

"I said it’s fine, damnit." Sawyer snapped. His chest heaved in a way that conveyed rare, genuine irritance. Jack hesitated, wondering what had truely caused Sawyer to feel so sour. "I already re-set it," he murmured. 

Jack looked up, eyes wide, "you what?" He asked sharply. 

Sawyer offered him a grin. Mocking, cruel and entirely forced. "I re-set it." He repeated.

"Jesus, Sawyer, do you know how dangerous that is? How did you know it even needed resetting?" 

Sawyer took another gulp of spirit. Jack continued to glare at him poignantly. Sawyer sighed, smirking again, "what, you never re-set your own nose?" He asked, the question sounding genuine, the slur setting in a little heavier now; he sounded drunk. "Done it plenty of times, Doc, no need to worry. I know what I’m doing," he waggled his eyebrows tauntingly. 

Jack was quiet for a second, curiosity building in his stomach. He swallowed, nodding before asking, against his better nature "yeah? How come?" As casually as he could muster. Jack was curious, to much so, perhaps it was the doctor in him, always wanting to know the full story, to understand as much as possible. Besides, Sawyer was drunk. For once, he had a chance of actually getting somewhere. 

"How come what?" Sawyer asked distractedly. 

Jack hesitated, "how come you know what you’re doing?" Sawyer’s mocking expression fell into something grave. Jack swallowed, "I mean, couldn’t you at least have seen a doctor? No one starts off re-setting there own bones - " 

"What’s your game, doc?" The venom in his voice made Jack halt. He’d stumbled into something then, something that Sawyer didn’t want pressed. 

Jack suppressed the ever rising flow of curiosity, "nothing," he shook his head. "I just don’t think it’s very healthy for someone to try and play doctor with themselves when they don’t know what they’re doing." He added quietly, not meeting Sawyers gaze. 

Sawyer scowled. "Not every kid could afford to pay of the medical room every other weekend, hot shot," he muttered. 

"What kid needs to go the medical room every other week?" Jack blurted out before he could stop himself. It was the doctor in him, always pushing - always wanting to know. He expected Sawyer to pull away, to curse him, kick him and tell him to go fuck himself. But he didn’t. He simply smirked. 

"Maybe I was just a bad kid." 

"What, you get into fights at school or something?" Something in him was telling him to stop pressing, he’d gotten more than he’d expected anyway. If he carried on pushing, he’d never be let in again. "Didn’t you parents do anything?" 

That got a reaction. Sawyer pulled his leg away. "My mumma was a hard working lady." He said, eyes far away. Jack swallowed. After a few moments of stillness, Jack shuffled forward again, continuing to wipe away the blood. 

The silence was heavy. Jack’s curiosity and self preservation were dual, battling deep and dirty until, after another couple of minutes of quiet, his curiosity won. "What about your dad?" 

That got a reaction. 

Sawyer pulled away roughly, shoving himself from the chair, stumbling backwards, the alcohol giving him lest control of his limbs. Jack pulled away, surprised at the ferocity. "The fuck are you playin’ at, huh?" Sawyer hissed. He was angry, that much was clear but it was the trembling of his hands that caused Jack to endure a wave of guilt. 

"I’m sorry-"

"You tryna pick my brain, that it? Tryna get inside my head - "

"I’m trying to make conversation, Sawyer - "

"I ain’t sitting here so you can play physiatrist you fuckin’ bastard - "

"I didn’t mean to upset you." Jack said loudly. The scencerity seemed to make Sawyer falter. 

"Y’didn’t upset me," Sawyer spat, his eyes were wide and wild. He blinked a couple of times, seemingly frustrated at his inability to control himself - being drunk would do that to you. "Despite your efforts." He added darkly, struggling to remain still, the alcohol swaying his knees.

Jack shook his head. "Sit down before you hurt yourself even more." He said softly. 

Sawyer did so, reluctantly. When the silence returned, it was somewhat comfortable, certainly more so than the arguement they’d just experienced. Sawyer had gone back to his drink, finishing it dry. His eyes had glazed over now, gaze somewhere far, far away. Eventually, he broke the silence in a distant voice. "You ever been beaten?" 

Jack suppressed the shock from his face. He wanted to ask him to specify, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. He knew what he meant. "No," he said quietly, "my dad was a drunk but he was a good man. Or, he tried to be, at least." Sawyer still wasn’t looking at him, his gaze lost amongst the flames infront of him. Jack swallowed, "have you?" 

Sawyer smiled darkly. "Can re-set nose, can’t I?" 

Jack was quiet. He looked down at his feet, attempting to ignore the doctor’s voice in his head connecting trauma to destructive behaviour. "Your dad?" 

Sawyer looked up. "Hm?" He hadn’t been listening. 

"Was it your dad, who," he trailed off. 

Sawyer’s expression faltered, his brows fell, teeth gnawing against his cheeks. For a second he was lost. Vulnerable. He gave a single, solemn nod. Jack exhaled slowly, concealing any open reaction. The silence stretched and Sawyer made a bitter chuckling sound. "Don’t need no pity." 

"I don’t," Jack said sincerely. He paused. "You shouldn’t punish yourself for things that happened in the past." He said quietly. 

Sawyer glowered at him. "The hells that supposed to mean?" 

Jack knew he understood. He knew that Sawyer was insistent that everyone disliked him, that he was the first to put himself in the firing line, to take unnecessary anguish. "It means that if we were back home, I’d have you on suicide watch." 

Sawyer physically recoiled. His jaw clenched. Eyes on the ground he uttered, "you should go now, Doc.” Jack wanted to protest but stopped himself. He’d been pushing and pushing all night, knowing that he had a chance to get somewhere, what with Sawyer being so heavily intoxicated. A pang of guilt hit Jack. He pushed away the thought of him taking advantage of his state.

Jack simply nodded, slowly walking away.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick disclaimer! I am English and therefore have a tendency to unknowingly throw in British slang without realising! If You notice anything huge please feel free to let me know as these characters are very much American lol! Anyways, I hope the Lost Fandom isn’t compeltely gone!!


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